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Full text of "To The Lighthouse"

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down the path, his children jjbllowing him.   They-*
looked,   she  thought,   as^f  fate  had   devoted,
them to some stern enterprise, and  they went,
to it, still young enough to be drawn acquiescent
in  their  father's   \^ake, obediently, but with a
pallor in their  eyes   yhich  made  her feel that
they suffered something^ beyond their years i$
silence.   So they passed tfe^edge of the lawiy
and it seemed to Lily that s5^watched a proŁ
cession go, drawn on by some stre5§s of common
feeling which made it, faltering ano\flagging a$;
it was,  a little company  bound  together  and;
strangely impressive to her.    Politely, ^Mtfn -~*jf
distantly, Mr. Ramsay raised his hand and saluted,
her as they passed.

But what a face, she thought, immediately
finding the sympathy which she had not been
asked to give troubling her for expression.
What had made it like that? Thinking, night
after night, she supposed—about the reality of
kitchen tables, she added, remembering the
symbol which in her vagueness as to what Mr.
Ramsay did think about Andrew had given her.
(He had been killed by the splinter of a shell
instantly, she bethought her.) The kitchen table
was something visionary, austere; something bare,
hard, not ornamental. There was no colour to it;
it was all edges and angles; it was uncompromis-